Corona Widows
It started with a phone call while I was parking my car outside the Home Depot. A weak but familiar voice at the other end called out:
"Nick, you old rascal -- are you there?"
"Hi Mick -- thought by now you would have died from boredom as a paper pusher!"
It was one of my very good friends whom I had had many years of working with as a foreign aid expert in developing countries. We had drifted separate ways but kept in touch by mail and phone a few times a year. He had landed a position at the embassy in Zambeti and had settled down with a wife and a couple of kids. I had not seen him for more than a decade, but he would always be my friend.
"Are you still living in your parents old house?" he asked.
I had gotten a job back in our home country and, when my parents had died, I took over their old house. It was an old schoolhouse with classrooms, a gym and everything, but over the years we had converted it to a nice, but very big, family home. I had only had my ex living here for some years, but our marriage had ended after years of unsuccessfully trying to have kids and the resulting total loss of intimacy.
"Yep, I still spend a fortune to heat the whole school. Do you need a place to stay? You are very welcome."
"Well, it's worse than that my friend. I have gotten this coronavirus and the embassy have offered to evacuate my family home, but we have nowhere to stay. I fear I will have to stay at the hospital, but my wife and daughters have tested negative, so they need a place to stay. It's an awful lot to ask. But I'm very worried about the hospitals here in Africa and would love to get myself and my family back home."
I was a little chocked. I knew Mick had no family here at home but I had never met his wife or kids so it would be our first meeting.
"Of course they are very welcome my friend. The government is demanding two weeks quarantine after arrival, but they shall be very welcome to do that here. When will you be back?"
"Actually, tomorrow morning at eight! There is a chartered plane divided into two parts depending upon their Covid status. I get first class treatment because half the embassy staff are positive!" Mick tried to laugh.
"Wow, I shall be ready to pick you up -- or rather them up. Have they arranged transport for you to the hospital?"
"All taken care of. I owe you a big one for this. My wife and daughters have their own credit cards, but you might have to help with car rental and so on -- whatever they need. They speak English so no trouble... I have to go -- they are boarding the flight. See you tomorrow -- and thanks -- I mean it -- it's a big favour to ask. Would only do it because I'm desperate!"
The line went dead. My mind was a little shocked, so I tried to make a short and long-term plan for how to suddenly have three guests staying. I could not even remember having heard Mick's wife's name, or the age or names of his daughters. I figured they were probably around ten years old.
Next morning, I was waiting at the gate as agreed. It had been a night of late-night shopping, moving beds and other furniture around and a lot of cleaning, but I was ready for my surprise guests.
The plane was on time, but nobody could leave before ambulances had taken the infected to the special ward at the national hospital. It took almost an hour before the passengers were led out of passport control. I had written a sign simply saying 'Mick's mate' as I am sure that was how he would have described me.
Finally, after another hour, three young ladies pointed at the sign and walked towards me. They were in their twenties or thirties and dressed almost as if heading to a gala with long dresses worthy of the red carpet at a film festival. It was very normal for African women to travel in their finest dresses. There were several fine dresses on the other passengers, but these were clearly tailormade for these three fine women. The eldest was in her thirties with a beautiful full figure, large breasts and hips but otherwise slim. Her face had the most beautiful smile and was surrounded by gigantic black hair. The other two were in their twenties. One very tall and slim but still with a woman's figure and the other was built like a top athlete with firm arms and legs that would have taken a long time to build. They also had very beautiful faces and giant hair, but it was tied up in large knots behind their head.
"Nick?" the eldest of the three asked.
"Yes?" I said
"And you are..?" I continued.
"I'm Isabel, and these are my daughters Sarah and Anita" she said, and we all shook hands.
"Ok, I was expecting Mick's wife to be a little older and Mick's daughters to be a little younger. We will have to make small changes at the guest rooms, but no problem," I said.
"Yes, we expected so. They are my daughters from a marriage long before I met Mick," she said, and we started moving the fully loaded luggage trolleys towards the parking lot.
I guess I had wrongly guessed her age because it seemed impossible that there could be a generation between her and her daughters.
As we moved towards my home, they commented on how civilized and clean everything was. They politely kept their conversation in English so I could participate.
As we pulled up in front of my home, they were a little impressed at least by the size of the place. My parents had converted the parking lot and playground to a large seating area with different functions and my mothers' keen eye for gardening was still to be seen even though it was now me trying to maintain everything.
We had to help each other with the suitcases. I led them first to their sleeping quarters.
"The whole second floor is bedrooms and bathrooms." I explained as I led the way with two large suitcases, "I had planned for the girls to sleep together in one, but I imagined much younger daughters. I have plenty of rooms so everyone can have a separate bedroom. You will, however, have to share a bathroom. Hope that's ok?"
"Oh, please do not change that!" both Anita and Sarah intervened.
"We love to sleep together!" Sarah concluded.